


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by saxemoji (midnightcheesecake)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: idk how to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightcheesecake/pseuds/saxemoji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, Satya decided to go back home.</p>
<p>(this was supposed to be Symmetra/Junkrat but I stopped here because I hate writing)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where the Heart Is

Satya had only visited her home once since she had left. She was twenty-three years old at the time, well situated with her work, and already considered to be one of the best at it. She had gotten quite good at burying herself in her education and work, and hardly ever thought of her life before Utopaea. But every now and then, she would have thoughts. Disturbing thoughts. She thought of her mother, crying as she was taken from her arms, her father running after the car that took her away, and her siblings, watching quietly from the only window of their home. She started to have nightmares that woke her up from sleep nightly. Soon, it was all she could think of. The thoughts had started to interfere with her work. The only logical solution was to fix them.

She would visit her home city, she would find her family, and she would relax once she found out they were doing fine. That was the only logical solution.

Somehow, she was able to get a week off from her supervisor to travel to Chennai. The five hour drive from Utopaea to Chennai was spent reading over upcoming work plans. Even though she was technically on vacation, Satya needed to prepare herself for the work she was missing.

The city had improved immensely since the last time she had been there. The slums consisted of a smaller part, and the rest of Chennai was clean and orderly. 

To her surprise, she still remembered how to get to the home she lived in. And it was still there. The one window was cracked and dusty, and the door was hanging off the hinges. It smelled like poverty. Satya cringed as she peered through the door, and reminded herself to breathe through her mouth. There was one woman at a table in the one room, nursing a child.

“Hello, I’m looking for the Vaswani family,” Satya explained. “Can you help me?”

“I remember you,” the woman said coldly. “You’re Satya.”

A chill ran down Satya’s spine, but she kept her composure. “Yes, I am.”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The woman laughed. “I was your sister. Amala.”

Memories rushed through Satya’s head. That’s right, she had a sister. She had several sisters. Amala, Meera, and Rajani. She had brothers, too. Durai and Rajesh. 

“No, no, I remember you - I remember all of you. Meera and Rajani and Durai and Rajesh - where are they? Are they here?” She was beginning to stumble over her words and lose her composure. All she could think of were her five siblings, standing at the window as she was taken away. She had been eight. 

The corners of Amala’s mouth turned into a slight smile, but it was a smile without humor or cheer. “They’re dead,” she said simply, and turned her attention back to her child, who was done nursing. Satya realized with horror that the child’s face was deformed, and it looked severely malnourished.

“Th-they can’t… they’re not…”

The next thing Satya remembered was sitting in a white hotel room next to a police officer.

From that moment, she decided she would no longer be Satya Vaswani. That part of her was dead, and had died years ago. As she admired the order and symmetry of her hotel room, she devised a new name. Symmetra. Because that was all that mattered, symmetry and order.

Yet she could never forget Amala’s smirk, and the deformities of her newborn child. She could never forget the slums she had grown up in. She could never forget the police officer, telling her that her family had died of starvation, disease, in uprisings and revolutions. Deep down inside, she couldn’t help thinking that she had made a mistake. She was never meant to become Symmetra, just like the human race was never meant to rely on order.

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticisms are welcome, being a buttface is not :)


End file.
